


Imprisoned in Time

by ultravioletwinters (sabelle768)



Category: One Piece
Genre: Gen, amnesia au, blood mention, cursing, it's complicated - Freeform, not sure where this is going
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-03 05:32:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4088815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabelle768/pseuds/ultravioletwinters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minutes pass by, and the only sound is the tick of the second hand on the clock.<br/>He remembers nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One Minute

**Author's Note:**

> I'm being scarce with warnings and such because 1. I am not entirely sure where this is going and 2. I don't want to be a spoiler

_He listens to the clock._

Tick… Tick… Tick…

_That repetitive sound, serving only as a reminder that time is passing by._

_He stares, stares at the wall._

_He stares at his hands._

_Raising the unfamiliar things to his face, he looks closer. He follows the creases of the palm, watching how they move as he tenses and relaxes his muscles. He gingerly runs his fingers down the opposite hand’s scars, tracing them._

_He looks with such a strong scrutinizing glare that the back of his head begins to throb._

_He puts his hand down._

_He stares at the wall again._

_He begins to speak._

_His mouth opens, nothing comes out._

_Dry, dry._

_He thinks instead._

**_Who am I?_ **

* * *

 

Zoro’s brain pulsated as he stared into the sky. He glanced over at his mangled bicycle, eyes still blurry, and felt his heart sink. The frame was entirely wrecked, smashed into a tree, twisted beyond repair, and the one still-present wheel’s spokes were broken into splinters. Zoro’s eyes searched for the other wheel, and he finally caught it in his vision, almost invisible in the tall grass, slightly bent. Zoro then remembered what had happened.

_That fucker, why the hell…_

He tried to stand, and his shoulder hit the ground with a soft thump. His arm hurt like shit, so he rolled onto his back and pulled himself up with his core. He stood up, with slight vertigo, and held the back of his head with his hand, wait, _where was his helmet?_

He saw it, entirely intact on the ground. However, the chin strap had snapped in half. He reached his free hand up to his neck and cringed, slowly returning the slightly bloodied appendage to the limp position from which it previously hung.

_At least I’m not too hurt._

Then he remembered again, _what the hell?_

Zoro trudged over to the roadside, finding a body facing upwards sprawled on the pavement. He was relieved that the guy wasn’t dead, after seeing the small, shallow movements of his chest as he continued to breathe.

Zoro was concerned, however, as he tried to pry open the blond man’s eyes: they were glazed over entirely. He was also concerned about the eyebrows he saw.

_Why would anyone have eyebrows like that..?_

He traced his finger along the strange shape and the man stirred, and opened his eyes. But, they stayed the same. They were still glazed over, still not present.

“Hello?!” Zoro blurted out, “Are you alright!?" Zoro then noticed how strangely worried he was over this random man he had never met. 

_Why would he be standing by the forest bike path? Why would he suddenly be in the middle of said path? Why would he spread eagle, right when I screamed to move out of the way? Why did he swerve like that, why did I still manage to hit him why did I …Why, why, why, why why why whywhywhywhy?_

Zoro brushed aside his own stupid questions. This man was obviously in need of some sort of aid. He propped the man up, and asked again if he was hurt.

"Who are you?” A quiet, serene voice. It sounded almost foreign. It was pleasing to the ear. “Why did you go away from me?"

The man’s voice shook and tapered out as if possessed some intense emotion. 

His cold, smooth hand suddenly grabbed Zoro’s shoulder, sending a shockwave of fear through his body. "Why did you let me live?”

The man’s eyes remained dull, his final question chilling to the bone, and he faded into unconsciousness, or was he ever conscious to begin with?


	2. Time

_Tick tick tick._

_The long hand of the clock had barely passed five minutes from when he closed his eyes._  
He wanted to stand up but he couldn’t, his legs were numb. In fact, his whole body besides his head was void of feeling.   
He suddenly looks down, checking to see if his body was still there- thankfully it was.   
He looked back up at the walls. All four were white, and there was no evidence of a door. The only furnishings were the chair he sat upon and the clock.   
The clock face seemed to loom over him, taunting him to stand up and defy the gut feeling he had.   
There was something wrong with this room and he couldn’t do anything about it.

Zoro watched, a disembodied spirit, as the blond man walked down the street. He was well dressed and neatly groomed as if he were heading somewhere exceedingly important. He walked into the shop. Through the window he saw himself, organizing books. His green hair stuck out, especially among the aged, browning spines and spruce shelves that lined the wall.   
“Hello,” the man said. His voice seemed too familiar.   
“Welcome to Dracule’s Bookstore sir, how may I help you?” Zoro watched himself respond, as his view passed through the window. He had a feeling that something was off, but he couldn’t place it.   
“I’m just browsing today, but thank you.” Zoro cringed as he nodded and let out an audible sigh as he watched himself turn around and get back to organizing books. He heard the man’s footsteps over by the cooking section, and shifted his perspective to the man. Up close, his hair was longer than he’d thought, and dropped over one eye. It looked very soft and silky, Zoro wanted to reach out to touch it, even though he knew he couldn’t.   
The man sighed and closed a fifth book, placing it back on the shelf. He slowly approached Zoro, and tapped his shoulder cautiously. His fingers were delicate but strong, having weight but appearing thin and smooth. His muscles relaxed under his touch.   
“Would you happen to have any books about fish? I haven’t been here before, that I can remember at least, and I’m unsure of how the place is organized.” His voice trailed off at the end. It had a lustrous tone, and was vibrant and clear. Zoro wanted him to keep speaking, it made his brain turn to mush. He felt comforted by the speech, reminding him of his father figure from his childhood.   
“Ah, yes!” Zoro responded, too loudly. Suddenly, he had first-person view. “Over this way…” He directed the man towards a shelf near the back corner, and indicated a set of books. “This author wrote quite a lot about fish, as well as other seafood. I believe he was a sea cook? I love his writing.”  
“Oh, oh!” The man’s demeanor changed instantly. His voice became slightly less serious and his eyes lit up. “The author… It’s my old man! I didn’t know he wrote,” he exclaimed. “I’ll take them, for sure!”  
Zoro’s brain clicked. He knew this guy! Well, sort of. When the author stopped by all those years ago to drop off copies of his books, he brought a child Zoro’s age along- this had to be that kid! The author was good friends with the previous owner of the store. His daughter and Zoro were very good friends, as the owner had taken Zoro as his foster child. Zoro remembered seeing a tiny blond boy, grasping the author’s artificial leg as he and the author chatted. Although he was probably about four years old at the time, he still remembered that boy.   
Somehow.   
Maybe he was just being creepy.   
One day, the owner and his daughter had to move for a family issue, and he sold his shop to another man. The current owner had taken Zoro in in the previous owner’s stead along with his daughter- who Zoro soon realized was staring at him.   
“Wow, how coincidental,” Zoro barely squeaked out. “The register is this way,” Perona was still staring at him from behind the counter as he brought the man over to pay.   
“That’ll be 32 dollars and 15 cents, please.” She said, as she placed the three books into a bag.   
“Here you go,” said the man as he handed over some cash.   
As Perona counted the money to give the man change, she gave Zoro a quizzical look.   
“Hey man, are you ok? You have had an actually kind of cute expression on your face for the past while. What’s up with that?”  
“I-it’s nothing! Nothing!” Zoro blurted out, befuddled. “It’s just the air in here’s a little stale. I’ll go open some windows right now.” He bolted to the front of the shop and cracked open one of the windows. They were rather pretty, with wooden frames and brass decals.  _What is up with me,_  Zoro thought to himself.  _Why am I like this? What’s up with my face? Why do I feel so connected to this guy, who’s basically a stranger?!_  
Just as he turned to go ask the man for his name, he heard the faint jingle of the bell over the door. He rushed back to the glass pane next to the door and watched as the man strode away, and disappeared into the late afternoon crowd. He felt disappointed. He didn’t know why.   
Zoro’s ears were suddenly bombarded by a girl’s shrill voice.   
“Oi, moss head. That wasn’t ‘nothing’! Tell me what you’re thinking about!”  
“Fine. I hope I won’t regret this..” He grumbled, walking back over to the register. He knew he probably would.

Zoro woke up with a start.  _What the hell??_

 


End file.
